| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from Montezuma's Daughter by H. Rider Haggard: superstitious, and held them to be the children of the god Quetzal,
who according to ancient prophecy would come to take the land.
Indeed, so gracious was she, and so royally lovely, that for the
first time I felt my heart stirred by any other woman than my
betrothed whom I had left far away in England, and whom, as I
thought, I should never see again. And as I learned in after days
mine was not the only heart that was stirred that night.
Near to us sat another royal lady, Papantzin, the sister of
Montezuma, but she was neither young nor lovely, and yet most sweet
faced and sad as though with the presage of death. Indeed she died
not many weeks after but could not rest quiet in her grave, as
Montezuma's Daughter |
The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Some Reminiscences by Joseph Conrad: The terms of the lease were very advantageous, but the retired
situation of the village and a plain comfortable house in good
repair were, I fancy, the greatest inducements. He lived there
quietly for about ten years, seeing very few people and taking no
part in the public life of the province, such as it could be
under an arbitrary bureaucratic tyranny. His character and his
patriotism were above suspicion; but the organisers of the rising
in their frequent journeys up and down the province scrupulously
avoided coming near his house. It was generally felt that the
repose of the old man's last years ought not to be disturbed.
Even such intimates as my paternal grandfather, a comrade-in-arms
Some Reminiscences |
The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from Bunner Sisters by Edith Wharton: The polished sides of the office vanished from Ann Eliza's
sight, and the cackle of the innumerable clocks came to her like
the yell of waves in a storm. She tried to speak but could not;
tried to get to her feet, but the floor was gone.
"I'm very sorry," Mr. Loomis repeated, closing the ledger. "I
remember the man perfectly now. He used to disappear every now and
then, and turn up again in a state that made him useless for days."
As she listened, Ann Eliza recalled the day when she had come
on Mr. Ramy sitting in abject dejection behind his counter. She
saw again the blurred unrecognizing eyes he had raised to her, the
layer of dust over everything in the shop, and the green bronze
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